


Drawn To You

by twowritehands



Category: Star Wars Episode I: The Phantom Menace
Genre: Alien Gender/Sexuality, F/M, Female!Obi-wan, M/M, Secret Crush, Smut, biology makes them do it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-22
Updated: 2017-03-22
Packaged: 2018-10-09 03:44:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,058
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10403127
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/twowritehands/pseuds/twowritehands
Summary: Obi Wan’s race is fluid and can change genders when isolated from the opposite sex. The counsel does a great job of keeping such children well adjusted and therefore, Obi Wan has never been Changed before. It is a fact that is mostly forgotten about him.Then a mission leaves Obi Wan and Qui-Gon on a moon base solely occupied by males, for far too long….





	

The fever overtook Obi Wan after their fifth week on the moon base. Qui Gon had known his padawan had been feeling poorly--when Obi Wan had a headache, he spoke less and never smiled--but the Jedi Master had thought nothing of it at all. This particular mission was nothing but one long headache; endless holo chat meetings and blind ignorant debates between the opposing parties. Both sides wanted Jedi mediation but neither side truly knew how to allow that. Every day was ten hours of shouting, minus meals and what the Jedi considered Vital Meditation Time. With his padawan ill and his own nerves fraying at the ends, Qui Gon had begun to surreptitiously lengthen their daily meditations. No one noticed, or no one cared, and so it kept increasing. By now they had whole weekends off.

Which would have been quite relaxing if Obi Wan wasn’t bedridden, sweating through sheets, and crying out in pain at the slightest jostle to his body. Would have been downright alarming if the source of the fever had been unknown. Fortunately, when Obi-Wan’s headache upgraded to a migraine followed closely with sharp abdominal pain, both master and padawan had gone wide eyed, did some math, and realized their folly.

“Whoops,” Obi Wan had said, voice cracking softly, body trembling, “I guess five weeks with only males is the limit, huh?”

With plenty of water to stay hydrated, Qui Gon had left the young man to suffer the biological upheaval in private, attending two meetings alone, distracted by the turmoil he could sense in the training bond. He knew only the basics of Obi Wan’s people, but Obi Wan assured him that the fever would break in a day, and then he would be fine.

A smile titled Qui Gon’s lips.  _ Just in time for the new week of pointless debates _ , he thought as he knocked upon Obi Wan’s door.

Everyone on the moon base had their own private sleeping module. Barely more than a cot and space to sit a pair of boots. Even with the door closed, Obi Wan’s module felt extremely lived in. Unlike the rest of the base--which was a droid-controlled building rented for political usage--this room lacked the sterile, neutral essence. It felt like the burrow of a small furry animal. This combined with Obi Wan’s new force presence made Qui Gon’s usual brisk knock distracted.

What was once an ocean, ravaged by a hurricane, was now sharp, clear water, fresh and cold...and falling….an endless waterfall...

The door slid open on silent tracks, and the master’s breath stilled in his chest.

“Obi...” he said in shock. For it was certainly Obi Wan Kenobi--same smile, same eyes, same hair and clothes--his face lacked all evidence of scruff or the sloppy shave it was given each morning. No adam’s apple. Thinner neck, fuller lips. The belt around his waist had extra spare length, new holes to close it tighter. Beneath the tunic were  _ breasts _ . Female. Obi Wan.

“Hi,” she said. Her voice sounded somehow the same, but feminine. Softer, flutey, but as warm and rich as ever.

Qui Gon took a full step back. “Wow.”

After a full minute of silence, with Qui Gon staring quite openly, Obi Wan rolled her eyes. “Enough of this,” she grumbled, shrugging on her tunic to hide the new shape. A light pink tinted her cheeks--Qui Gon knew the young woman _ \--man _ \--had to be reeling with embarrassment and too late realized his neglected duty.

“Y..you make a fine young woman, Obi Wan,” he said diplomatically, a small throat clear.

The pink became red. Obi Wan closed the robe tightly. “Just ignore it.”

“There is no need to become embarrassed, Padawan. This is a matter over which you have no control.”

“It’s frustrating as hell, though,” Obi Wan said. “I mean, obviously, this isn’t a real threat to my species. I wish I could just  _ tell  _ my body that there really isn’t THAT pressing of a need to mate--with anyone,” her words hiccuped when their eyes accidentally met. Qui Gon looked quickly to the control panel of the conference room doors.

Obi Wan cleared her throat, fanned the neck of her tunic, and scratched lightly at her hairline. “I feel so gross.”

Qui Gon could not help but chuckle as the doors peeled open and granted them access to an already thunderous argument between the sects. His hand fell rather naturally to the small of Obi Wan’s back. “Perhaps a woman can succeed where men have failed.”

“Ha ha.”

“I’m actually quite serious, Obi Wan,” Qui Gon said, folding his arms. “The more I think of this whole situation the less convinced I am that it was an accident. The jedi council and I intend for this to be your final mission. I believe Master Yoda has devised a specific trial for you to face here."

Sea green eyes shining, the young jedi gave a radiant smile that set Qui Gon’s heart hammering. “Do you mean it, master? You think I am ready for trials?”

“I believe this is the beginning of them. You must face all that you are or are capable of becoming.”

Her jaw set forward. She nodded curtly. “Right then. Shall we settle this nonsense once and for all?”

  * ••



The elders always said it would be different for everyone. Most people did not go full transformation. Most people hit the mark a little further away from the bullseye, acquired the appropriate organs but maintained everything else. Obi Wan had just sort of assumed his entire life that, were he ever Fevered, he would gain a womb but present as male.

But apparently, Obi Wan wasn’t like most people.

When the fever broke, he had the rudest awakening as he changed his clothes. He now had breasts. Squishy, supple mounds of flesh that filled his hands in a viscerally satisfying way. That jiggled when he bounced--different, but manageable, acceptable.

What was unacceptable was downstairs. His manhood had reverted itself,  _ completely _ . And that was so, so weird. Just about too weird. Going to the bathroom was off putting, to say the least.

His desperation fluctuated but never boiled over. So he was a woman at the moment. The day was bound to come, eventually. Obviously the only way back to true form was to finish this mission as soon as possible, find a bunch of women and induce another fever.

Obi Wan hadn’t allowed himself to dwell too much on his new body. He sent a droid to let his master know the fever had broken, dressed himself in tunic and boots that were just a smidge too large, and clung to his dignity at all costs.

It would have been the worst day of his life, except the way it changed Qui Gon made it suddenly….not. Obi Wan could not have identified his master by smell before--but now it was his second strongest feature, after his Force presence. The smell of white powder mixed with natural musk made the towering man a walking wave of soothing scent.

The thoughtful compliment to his new gender--specifically, the low timbre of Qui Gon’s voice as he said it---made something flip in Obi Wan’s stomach. He also never realized how  _ blue _ his master’s eyes were or how exciting it was to hold eye contact with him. And when he realized his master’s hand had settled on his lower back--Obi Wan’s palms began to sweat.

All brand new. All strangely titillating. Obi Wan felt like a fruit ready to burst open.

_ But of course _ , he realized. The Fever was to insure offspring, which meant all subjected to it would be bloated with hormonal urges to breed.

His accelerated heart rate began to calm. So that was all this was. Chemical reactions. Bare science. 

  * ••



In the middle of the night, Obi Wan knocked on her master's door and it opened under his force touch. He didn't move a muscle, eyes still closed. “Is everything alright, Padawan?”

Obi Wan smiled, pushing a gentle  _ yes _ through their bond before speaking what was on her mind. “Do you know what I’ve realized? I don’t want this mission to end.”

“You do not want to face your trials? You do not feel ready?”

“No, that’s not it. I can’t wait to be knighted. I just….I am going to miss you. So much.”

Qui Gon opened his eyes, rolled onto an elbow, hair sliding over one shoulder to hang against the side of his face. “I will miss you too, Padawan. It has been an honor teaching you.”

“No,” Obi Wan said softly, stepping into the module’s tiny standing space. Her calloused fingers brushed Qui Gon’s hair back from his cheekbone as she said, “I mean, I’m going to miss you.”

Qui Gon gulped and placed a hand over hers. “Obi Wan--”

“I see the way you look at me now. And you touch me differently. Have I interpreted it all wrong?”

“...no…” Qui Gon admitted to the sheet draped over his hip. Obi Wan breathed out a sound of relief. “Good, because I can’t go another sleepless night. This damn body is  _ primed _ for coupling. I can’t sate it--tried--can’t. I need more…. I need you.”

“Obi Wan, I am honored.”

She climbed into bed with the Jedi Master. His hands touched her gently, guiding her body over him. He felt of her ass, her inner thighs, and then the pads of his fingers slipped  _ up. _ Obi Wan gasped lightly as her master discovered the wetness hidden there.

He groaned softly and Obi Wan’s body flashed hotter all over. She gulped, pushing down on those fingers. She had become accustomed to the feeling over the last few days, of the slick folds and the stretch. She wanted--needed--more.

Shaking, she handled Qui Gon’s arousal with insider knowledge on what to do that made them both snicker quietly. The master’s cock filled out impressively and Obi Wan gulped, suddenly nervous. She was  _ burning  _ to be filled but she never quite imagined something so large.

Qui Gon’s fingers inside her scissored, causing her to gasp and whimper, clinging to his shoulders. He did it again and again until her slick was oozing down his hand. Breathlessly, she dared to look into those blue eyes. She felt like she was falling. He kissed her again, damp fingers brushing against the skin of her spine. She sank into his lap, enveloping his cock far easier than she’d initially imagined.

“Oh, master,” she whispered. Shaking uncontrollably now, she undulated her hips, making him slide in and out of her in short, slow little movements. He rested his hands on her hips but offered no guidance, merely enjoyed whatever she felt like doing.

She felt like doing a lot.

Her entire body was on fire. Her every muscle was twitchy and tense and she kept forgetting to breathe. The pleasure just kept coming. Building. The faster she moved, the harder, the deeper, all the better. She had imagined something slower, softer, with more of a connection to her beloved master but in all honesty he could have been anyone. She was lost in the coupling, the heat and the sweat and pure pleasure.

She braced her forearm against one wall, planted the other hand on the wall above the headboard. She rode as if her life depended on it because it felt that way. She thought she might die it felt so right.

Qui Gon had begun to call her name. He held onto the small cot frame, face hungrily soaking in the sight above him. He laughed when he had the breath. He used the force to touch her breasts, to brush through her short hair and lightly stroke her neck. These caresses fueled her. When he bent his legs and brushed his ankle against hers she cried out, rocking forward from the incline. Their noses brushed, then their lips. He flipped them. Obi Wan landed on her back, her master over her as he pumped steadily, at a new more controlled rhythm that made Obi Wan whimper again.

_ It's about to happen, Obi Wan.  _ Qui Gon warned,  _ remember to breathe. It will help you relax and enable more to follow. _

She squeezed her eyes shut as the intense pleasure pushed through her body, so sharp she felt it in her lungs, which admittedly she had forgot about using again. Gasping, she just barely had time to regain the even breathing she had learned as a youngling in exercise class before Qui Gon’s steady, powerful thrusts caused a seismic event within her body. It started in her thighs and moved upwards, deep into her core. A flutter, two flutters--ten flutters overlapping and crashing through her abdomen. She cried out senselessly but remembered to breathe.

Qui Gon praised her just as he always did as they practiced fighting styles; without pause, already moving into the next set.

They rolled so that he lay on his side. With one guiding little push, he bade her to fit her back against him. He bent her top leg so that she was propped on that knee and the opposite elbow. He stroked her spine and massaged her ass before slipping back into her wet folds.

She buried her face in the pillow as the pleasure began to build again. His hands explored her body like his force touches had done, and his lips--when not leaving butterfly kisses on her neck and shoulder--whispered more words of praise and direction.

Obi Wan’s heart was pounding harder than any practise fight--or  _ real  _ fight--had ever driven it to beat. Tears welled in her eyes, from sheer ecstasy. She choked and broke again, breathing through it with loud groans that made her master break his rhythm. He went faster and harder, breaking at last, force signature exploding into a million little stars that floated like glitter and kissed Obi Wan head to toe with warm life and peace--Complete. Total. Oneness.

Obi Wan sobbed into the pillow until her body stopped singing and exhaustion began to close its fist around her. She couldn't keep her eyes open, she couldn't speak. Through it all her master held her, a rock of reassurance, a steady stream of adoration and respect.  _ Sleep, Obi Wan, you did extremely well. _

  * ••



The next morning, Obi Wan opened his eyes half certain that he had turned into stone. His entire body was stiff and achy. His master’s arm draped over his waist, his weight propped against Obi Wan’s back, peaceful breaths tickling the crown of her head.

It all came back to him. His female body. What he  _ did _ . With Qui Gon Jinn. Oh, Force-gods what had he been thinking?

Bolting upright in the bed, he force reached for a tunic. It whipped to his hand just as the Jedi Master startled awake and asked, “Obi Wan? What is wrong?”

“I've gone  _ mad, _ ” he said, heart pounding as he struggled into the clothing. The Padawan braid slithered between breasts as he flicked it out of the collar. The sensation did nothing to calm his jangled nerves. “Last night was complete insanity.”

“It was remarkable,” Qui Gon said.

Obi Wan’s breath clenched in his chest. He peeked shyly over his shoulder, beholding his beautiful master amid the sheets that were warmed by both their body heat, thrumming with their merged force signature, and stained by Qui Gon’s substantial release; the memory of which left Obi Wan breathless and aching strangely between his legs.

Qui Gon’s pale blue eyes crinkled as he smiled and his large, calloused hand touched Obi Wan’s spine gently. “I shall never forget it for as long as I live.”

Smile wobbly, Obi Wan hid his face in both hands, sighed, and got out of the bed business like. They were due in the conference hall for negotiations, after all. Though suffering the mindless, pointless debates had been close to torture these last few weeks, just now, Obi Wan couldn't wait to get back to work. For the modicum of normalcy that would provide him.

“The politicians will not miss us if we are a few hours late,” Qui Gon said. Obi Wan’s heart lifted and that little ache intensified with a flutter, but Qui Gon’s lips tilted and he said, “you need to meditate, recenter yourself; ease the soreness in your body.”

Darkening an even shade of red, Obi Wan mumbled a promise to do so and slipped out of the room.

  * ••



When the door slid shut, Qui Gon rolled onto his back and stared at the ceiling. He wanted more than anything to talk this out with Obi Wan, but the storm of confusion in the padawan made that impossible at the moment. Gone was the alluring waterfall that had marked the feminine alter ego of Obi Wan Kenobi, and Qui Gon feared it had been his doing. Last night’s primal heat would have been simple in and of itself, man and woman and sheer instinct. But despite his best efforts, emotions had entered the mix.

Qui Gon had not been able to deny his love for Obi Wan for years now. Then this...

What a mess.

  * ••



Obi Wan meditated for the next three days. When at last, he opened his eyes he was surprised to find himself still on the moon base. His thoughts had taken him deep into the force...and into the future. He had nothing concrete. Flickers and suspicions and a set of familiar blue eyes in a pudgy baby face.

He put a hand to his abdomen.

  * ••



Obi Wan caught a glimpse of himself in the glass of a door and lost his breath.  _ Was that what he looked like?  _ She was cute. Obi Wan would be lying if he said it didn't give him a confidence boost.

Qui Gon caught him checking himself out. A knowing smile curled the master’s lips and Obi Wan blushed.

All the frustration flooded him again and he rolled his eyes. “Master, when can we leave this sea of testosterone?”

Qui Gon gave him a long face, but not about the mission, as he reported only good news on that front. “I have successfully closed the negotiations. Both parties are satisfied. We are free to go this minute.”

“Good.” Obi Wan clipped. He spun on a heel and marched toward their ship. Qui Gon used the force to catch up. Obi Wan grit his teeth.

“I do wish to speak to you about our night.”

Obi Wan inflated his chest.  _ Our night _ . How could two little words sound so sweet? He made sure not to smile. The matter was far too serious for foolish whimsy.

“It was a primal instinct I was wholly unprepared to resist and I apologize.”

“No need for that, padawan. I quite enjoyed it.”

His sure tone, the cocky gait--suddenly Obi Wan flashed with rage. “Oh really? Some stranger pours herself into your pod in the middle of the night and you just take her no questions, no regrets?”

“It wasn't a stranger. It was you.”

“I am not  _ me _ right now, Master.”

“Of course you are.”

Obi Wan gulped. “No. I am not.” He lifted his eyes from the floor, met Qui Gon’s soft baby blues. “I'm a we.”

“You feel like your two genders makes you two people.”

“No. Not that. I mean, after our night...I became a we. I'm… Qui Gon, I  _ bred  _ with you. I'm with child.”

The door to the lift opened, spilling politicians. The Jedi stood still as stone, eyes locked, until the tide of bodies passed. The doors began to close again but with two fingers, Qui Gon stopped them.

Obi Wan stepped into the lift first.

“It has only been three days. Padawan, are you certain?”

“I saw it in the force.”

“What did you see exactly?”

Obi Wan bristled. “Not much but one thing I saw  _ very  _ clearly was your child.  _ Our _ child.”

Qui Gon invaded Obi Wan’s space, pushing him against the lift wall, hand on his abdomen, eyes closed. He listened.

Obi Wan tried to breathe normally but the man's smell still intoxicated him. His transformed body began to stir. He grit his teeth.

“... I do not feel life.” Qui Gon said, sounding troubled. His hand pressed harder, he leaned closer as if he might hear.

Obi Wan’s will power slid sideways, and he combed the curtain of Qui Gon’s hair back behind his broad shoulder. “I saw life. He was beautiful, too.”

The Jedi Master shook his head, brows pinched. Obi Wan blinked. Could he have been wrong? “Perhaps I misinterpreted my vision…”

This made Qui Gon open his eyes and smile, but he did not drop his hand or move away. Obi Wan stepped into a hug. “I was meditating on what happened and if I should ever allow the change again.”

“The force gave you the answer.”

“Yes it did. If I am not with child now that means one day I will be. This is going to happen again."

Qui Gon smiled into the middle distance.

Obi Wan looked his master up and down and then folded his arms into his sleeves, as much to comfort himself as to hide his breasts.

Qui Gon sensed his unease.

“Padawan, there is something I must tell you. The reason I did not put a stop to your hormonal advances. I sense in you great confusion on the matter, even now, after meditation.”

“What's to be confused about? I know the kind of man you are, master. I understand what happened.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“Your connection to the living force. Women. Vessels of life. You're drawn there like a moth to flame.”

The man's lips quirked. “Well, you are not wrong.”

Obi Wan snorted, pleased to be right even if it hollowed out his stomach. “The minute I return to my true shape you’ll be drawn someplace else. It's the will of the force.”

“Untrue. In man form or not, padawan, you are a vessel. I am always and will always be drawn to you.”

Obi Wan stopped walking so suddenly, his boot skidded on the floor. Qui Gon had a fierce look on his face. One that showed his wisdom and place in the force along with a contradicting, raw vulnerability.

His breath hitched. “Always?”

Embarrassment flickered in Qui Gon’s eyes. “We need not speak of it anymore for now. The trip home is sixteen hours. I think it is time I meditate. Excuse me.”

The taller Jedi dunked into the ship and with a flash of cloak, was gone. Stunned, Obi Wan started the engine and piloted it out of the atmosphere alone.

Once they were in light speed, he sank into another mediation too.

  * ••



The second fever did not seem so intense, but that could have been because this time he knew what it was, what to expect, and what to do to make it happen faster.

When he woke with a flat chest and a hard penis, joy rocketed out of his throat in a deep, hearty crow. In the height of his fever he had stripped away all clothing. Now he did not even pause to dress.

“Master!” He shouted in his old, deep timber. Qui Gon met him in the hallway outside his room. Blue eyes swept over his  rock hard body  and upright,  flush  member.

Obi Wan felt the precum ooze over the head of his cock. “My body is on fire.”

“I am a helpless moth.” Qui Gon said.

Obi Wan did not move, but instead embodied the harsh, uncaring flame that did not go to moths but made them come to it.

Qui Gon moved slowly, worshiping the glory of the race that held both elements of life in one creature. But when he laid hands on Obi Wan, a dam broke. Passion swept them out of the room, against walls, into the bed where they remained for the rest of the day.

It would take years, nearly ten, before Obi Wan changed again. But when he did it was on purpose. And when he did, Qui Gon was there. And that time, Obi Wan stayed female for nine months.

  * •• fin



 

**Author's Note:**

> Please let me know if I can adjust the use of He/She pronouns!


End file.
